REST IN POWER, CORRUPTION & PAST LIVES

03/31/23

Sometimes I can actually see the yin and yang wrestling. There is light and there is dark. There is a scale that tips a little too much to the ground. It’s a miracle anyone exists at all.

After I post this I’m going to send paid subscribers an unreleased Cold Cave song from 2013.

I look forward to waking up and writing aimlessly…. mostly because where I’ll end up is a surprise to myself. So thanks for baring with me while I trip through this platform. I’m listening to Sad Lovers & Giants’ Epic Garden Music in headphones. I am burning a Mad et Len Black Uddu candle. I lit it with my Kiss Zippo. I am drinking black cold brew coffee. My favorite pens, Stabilo, are waiting for me in the Werkstatt München silver pencil tray. I look at them while typing… patient and angsty like dogs waiting to be walked. I’m almost ready.

It’s Friday. This week came and went and was trying and at times I tried. Cardboard boxes and taxing addition. The sun stayed out later than usual. Sparrows sang against a half moon. My eyes burn like wildfire but are getting use to the lenses in my Kuboraum glasses. Enough to see you staring back at me right now.

I am very aware of all of the names I just checked. I don’t care if (at first) you find it superficial. If I can’t have all of my limbs I want the very best accessories.

I received this Power, Corruption & Lies puzzle from a reader here and I would like to thank you for thinking of me. So thanks, Uncertified Goods.

Last night I met with Brian Masek, American Nightmare guitarist for the last 23 years, for a coffee. He has a handful of new songs and I’ve heard some of them and they are incredible. Our new EP isn’t even out yet and we’re talking about new music. We should do an LP next, but I think a label should take it on as I’m stretching myself a little thin lately with too many projects…

Such as finishing my massive AN journal collection photo scrapbook. I was going through the scans last night and unfortunately some of it needs to be redone. It’s hard to find the time. We may need a part-time assistant who can do a little of everything. If you exist and are in Los Angeles and are generally able to get things done with please let us know how you may be helpful.

I saw that Pulp’s This Is Hardcore is now 25 years old. When this came out I knew zero people who liked or knew of it. Here is a scan of one of my old journal covers from back then.. I could write a book on that album.

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I also saw a photo of an old friend Travis Conner…

In 2005, having grown tired of San Diego, I took a room in Richmond, VA. It was a four bedroom apt in the Fan. He was one of my roommates. We only knew each other for a couple of years but got along fabulously. That was likely because we both could drink for days… neither of us said very much… and both were in a secret war with ourselves. You can usually smell your own.

He liked to take photos and hop trains. Sometimes he would take off on trains for days or weeks. He was close with Tim Barry from Avail who I knew a bit from the years before. Avail took AN out for some shows in the early aughts. He’s good people so I knew Travis was in good company as they rode around forgotten America together.

My layover in Richmond lasted less than a year. I liked the city but my feet were on fire. By 2006, I landed in Fishtown, Philly. Travis and I stayed in touch a little. Mostly via email. Mostly the type of staying in touch you do when you’re depressed.

In January, 2008 I learned that he had hung himself. A receipt for the rope he purchased from Lowes was found in his pocket. Tim had found him. He was 30.

Part of the tragedy of young, beautiful people dying in such a tragic way is that you’re young and beautiful and stupid and no one knows how to talk about it. You just carry them with you. You just carry on without them.

I still don’t really know how to talk about it…

Because this world is twisted, one of the only relics I have from him is a photo he took of me at a Halloween party in 2005 with a noose around my neck. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to share the photo. I’m not going to.

I hate that death is just a moment. And that moment outlives a lifetime. And if you can just make it through that moment then death has no present role. It preys on vulnerability. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve only survived because I’m vulnerable but also made of stone. They just cancel each other out. It’s just instinct and it’s soft but also hurts to the point of hardened.

I’ve mostly always harvested negative self-opinion. That’s a major corner of the war I strategize against in the sobriety of every other waking moment. It was difficult and even agonizing to learn that Travis, who seemed so with it, and confident and cool (not unlike Chachi), could not take it any more. Never forget that you just never know. The world is worse without him… I think of him both fondly and sadly and hope that he is at peace. I wish for his place in the multiverse, catching a train in the gold A.M.

(From Ghost Radio)

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Lighter note… I was then trying to recall my address in Fishtown. I found it in my email related to a Forced Exposure record order I placed in 2007:

Dear Self, You were 27. You made a good purchase.

More soon…